Archive for October, 2009

Freakazoid Skeleton (Trippy) cont…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 31, 2009 by ravenstooth

Went outside to see all the screaming.

Heard someone laughing at all the ravens.

Once I saw them I started dreaming.

And fell into the belief and began behaving.

As if the world known to men wasn’t here.

Suddenly the earth began to shake and crumble.

The murder was called due to the rain and thunder.

These times are becoming drunk and we stumble.

Until the ravens show full alert, our mood is still humble.

We’ll speak to the remaining men when they are here.

Forests are in darkness and the rivers are colder than the year before.

Waters flow rage into the stormy sea, and our minds melt like the winters white.

As death reeks across the silent meadow that echos in the blinding snow.

On the reasons and frozen lakes the ravens perch, huddled like shaggy ink.

The distance hollars to the men who once preached to a future that will never get here.

Another moon has decended the days, with a mystical haze. In which we gaze with such awe and gives the ravens their caw. As we dance in it’s cast like they did in the past, we’re so bounded to the ground where our madness astounds. For a flash in a moment we were on the right trail, yet for some blood we tasted, death was only to prevail. A friend phoned and I saw the edge of the world slip into the memory and into forgetfulness.

I could have been slaughtered by the rain and fall into a field surrounded by avalanche.

I should have witnessed the surrender of a tall beauty and search far for the winter that spills existence. The creatures walked frozen in their uncertainty as they foraged for life in the barrens wasted. Her temperment shorted while the beast turn favor in the midnight starvation. A warrior or mockerist belched the tranquility, and we ate the lizard’s hissing regurge.

Somewhere the shutter shakes and all is blurred. The reset only allows a moment to be resurfaced. Because the time is timed the discovery needs to be quick. As the flight is hastened, the perch becomes totemic. All in favor begin the ritual. Take back the Earth and create the wilderness precession. A whirlpool and formless, the sound of wind blown grasses lick against our quiet movements. The grouse run chaos through it’s sharp breeding edge. Where are the men that will shelter the storm when it hunts here.

All grudges gone. With the exception of sight and fright.

I never had an original thought.

Only the ones I forgot…


Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 31, 2009 by ravenstooth


Catch your energy on the return trip.

For you’ll need all your will during.

You seek the journey to fullfill your empty thoughts.

To reassure that it’s truly something to see.

An existence that makes you feel that your search is for an ultimate pleasure.

Never being able to explain the timelessness into words.

No one will ever be able to see it unless they journey.

The photographs are just a tease in the world you roamed.

Some may show an extraordinary discovery.

Yet still the feeling is woeful to the uninvited guest that can only dream.

Like what you did before you departed.

What a thrill it is to be gone without going.

What is the day when we’re inside.

You stand up and I feel your drive.

We fall into the room and come alive.

Waking up to the echos we cried.

I’m trying. Talking.

The shadows loom free down the hallway.

Full of desires that are filled with mystery.

A pulse and heavy breaths coiled with fever.

The darkness withers like the calmness of a lake’s morning surface.

Scared and timeless.

An ancient rhythm or rhyme chants worship.

The words are plenty but the meaning is bullshit.

Hordes in the city with the same shit sold in the garage sale.

Her mentioning of a promise that once was sacred.

Please, I’m feeling obscure- sardonic.

Called morning only to hear a busy line filled in with the heavy day.

Birds fly hush with their flutter.

Eyes raised and tortured. Hey Brother, I’ve found me.

Open air cave. Climbing. Chanting.



Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on October 31, 2009 by ravenstooth


And… We’ve created our inevitable demise.

And act like we were so surprised.

And it glows like a blacklight on our eyes.

And we look as if all our words were lies.

Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 31, 2009 by ravenstooth



I imagine how it would be. In this world that I see.

Without cars and money and greed.

It would be a place without people.

You know the Indians had it down.

They never abused the sacred ground.

What do we care now

Why should we care now

No one even cares now.

The only way to save the Earth is to give ourselves to the Earth.

But I need a new TV. I need a new home. I need a new everything.

And god damn it, it will be mine.

But hey I have running water, I have a refrigerator, a microwaver, a calculator, a piece of paper, Space Invaders, Schwarzenegger, that holy savior- what an instigator,

I need a favor. A little favor.

Give it all up.

Give it all up.

Give it, give it, give it.

Let go..

Internal are we. As we spread the seed. And the things we need. And the things we need.

The end is always near.  We may as well get our kicks while we’re here.

Internal in the eyes that see nothing.  Blind like the daydream seeker.

Exploding into the final thrill with no resolve.  As we penetrate the sacred ground. 

You know the Indians had it down. 

Like the silence of fresh snow. 

And now as we drive through town. 

We have no where else to go.


The highway blanks our mind with daydreams and, of time.




Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , on October 30, 2009 by ravenstooth


It seems that we’ve been here before.

Over and over what a bore.

There no reasons for this ride.

With different people by my side.

All these illusions come to me- like delusional astronomy.

I could fall and throw right on back.

Everlasting fieldstone track.

Should I quiver in the snow.

Maybe, possible, I don’t know.

Then the autumn falls again.

And soon…I’m there with a strange new friend.

Is it time to reconcile. Awhile, I’ll smile at this slow time trial.

I’m on a lake that has an Indian name.

The glare from the sun on the water speaks the same.

There’s a Raven in the tree that I can’t see.

I call out to see that the Raven is me.

I try to fly away but I have to stay

This life I must play through today.

Weak in the knees, the trees, the wicked breeze.

Hearing the autumn fall. Like the leaves that squall.

Like the time we saw. The river run raw.

We had a blast out on the open flight.

Your daisies drew wilted memories on the account that we tripped.

Our touch and then we fled into the distant games of our minds.

Birds in their hover, the fields black, specked in movement.

I’ve waited a long time to discover- my glory unselfishly.

Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , on October 30, 2009 by ravenstooth


Graveyards and the stands.

The calmness, the brands.

All echo from tunneled lands.

The doomsday, the sands.

All holler the beckoning.

Too courageous a thing.

Towards sorrow and the pity.

The burning ancient city.

Sacrifice towers and visions.

Flowers bloom their rendition.

Glory monster- see funny pocket.

The sun bled from the socket.

Half grasp the deafening.

The horror, so muffling.

In what’s known to endeavors strewn.

Calls out the lasting moon.

The crow flies with a croon



Left turn exit- the barrens and desert land.

The make-shift hotel. Here is the rights of passage..

Tomorrow the morning will share the warmth that’s unguided.

The creatures in the tall forest- skittish, weary, divine.

Our days fall oblong like repetitive unknown.

After we met and talked, I walked away wondering if our encounter really happened.

My reality lately feels unfortunately unreal.

Like the fog has encumbered most of my visual agreements.

Wake up- fall right in the path that has been askew for a long time.

There was a moment that every motion felt like a new discovery.

Now it’s their turn to bring on their own new unguided adventures.

Fly free- your wings are silk and clear. Talking to circles that end in rituals.

Mid-day boredom- the music encores the bluesy side show.

Push play, pause, stop, next, eject.

Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , on October 29, 2009 by ravenstooth


Gone- and then- came back again.

Still torn from the strangeness that I lend.

I’m still runnin away- from the spaces I’ve betrayed.

Here and there again and I’m so exclusive.

Now and then again I’ve been so reclusive- from YOU

And there’s no one turning around.

We’ve seen most of our past, keeps going.

Once we know the future there’s never any slowing-


I’m still tryin to say, that life’s to short to hate.

Now and then and again, we’re so confusing.

How and there and again, it’s just amusing- to YOU

And then there’s someone on the ground.

I’ve been gone- and then came back again.

You’re gone- and you’ll come back again

We’ve gone- and we’ll come back again

So long- and we’ll come back again.

Our turn, and we’ll come back again

We’ve learned, that it’s painful coming back… again.


Is there the beginning of time?

And if there is was it as sublime.

Was the oil sludge our overnight brine?

And still this day we drink it like fine wine.

Why do we exclude ourselves from the natural Earth.

All the wonders that took place since our birth.

What is the price of our existence really worth?

As the natural human disaster takes mirth.

We’re the Unnatural Natural Man.

Surviving is the factory plan.

Our selfishness of the Earth is a sham

We’d better use our minds while we still can.

There’s nothing here but water and land.

We’re the Unnatural Natural Man.




Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on October 29, 2009 by ravenstooth
Transaction- and problems solved.

The flow through your hands evolved.

And the work is over timed.

One swipe through, your time begins.

A debit has been paid.

Weekly expense and monthly accrue.

Bonus charge if delayed.

Where does it all go?

The flurry in and the flurry out.

How so much is on the line.

You can’t trade for goods any more.

Even for a trade in time.

Haggle, Haggle, cost and deficit.


Reflection so dreary and abundant, so clear.
A hiss of primeval , abnorm, and surreal.

The taste is so deafening, discolored an ordeal.

A haunting of ritual, still taunting the unreal.

Which cradled the psyche, the mind, the appeal.

Where the dead and the living conjured the deal.


Freakazoid Skeleton (cont.)

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized on October 28, 2009 by ravenstooth


When our mouths reveal the language,

Then we mutter under our breath?

As our eyes interpret the converse,

Are we reveled in our jest?

Are we looking for reaction

When we spit out our discern.

Is the smitten of another

The challenge that we yearn?

When we opinionated our reasons,

Are we shedding our disguise?

As we shout at one another,

Are we the victor in our eyes?

No one’s ever right, right now,

When everyone is always wrong.

Why do we combat with opinion

While the other drops a bomb.

Are we looking out for each other?

Or trying to stand alone?

Do we even give a FUCK.

When the winds in our minds are blown.

All religion is the game.

That grass will never win.

The world remains the same

And the roaches only grin.

Have we not learned from the past

As the cliché’ comes around.

For we’re not smarter than the EARTH

What have we learned from beneath the ground.

We all die just like nature.

And MAN is natural too.

Although we mostly forget our lineage

And that MAN began askew.


Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on October 27, 2009 by ravenstooth

 My Ravenstooth… raven123


Aged magnificence like flowers plush in the sun’s sorcery.  How wicked the game, with completions that call us on to greet the final tally.  Motions are weak by creatures in their innocence.  Tortured souls, the days are ripe like wet saturated faces that weep madness in our dark horrible nightmares.  Can we seek journeys that no one man will dare venture, only to search for the valor of a united prologue.  Songs aerie to the labyrinth in secret domain.  The Eagle is praying to the Raven.  Cataclysmic sanctuary for the forbidden young.  They sense visions and act as if they’ve etched our soft lazy souls on the corner where the beggars play mockery to the once prolific contributions.  Dead End is the sign.  And the beggar is still grinning.  The Raven chants “I KNOW” and doesn’t HE always.  When we crank the sounds, where are we reaching?  Do the impulses weaken our intellect?  Our goal is fuck, but how we expire is at the final summit.  The rope is our holster in the unthought-of surprise.  Lunch time, and we gorge on milk and bread. Sunrise, and the days are created for us with signs burned on the roads forest.  Are we more than just farmers, businesses, magicians, friends?  Hands on the concrete, we call to The Raven and The Eagle but they just fly on by, and we wonder if they can hear us beg in the fire light of time.  Conscious in the morning at our coffee table yawn. Decisions- they are always waiting to move forward.  

We were waiting at the restaurant one afternoon to be seated. The waitress was motioning us to follow. As we seated and glanced at the menu, she poured water in the glasses for us to drink.  Once we order our food we ate and paid and exited the restaurant.  When we arrived at home, we were still waiting at the restaurant to be seated.  So we sat down and order our food.  We were pretty hungry by then.



Captured by the moonlight, the fire sparked illusions in our glazed faces.  The wind breathed life into the smoldering eyes that once brought inquiry, taught us intent in the useless reprieve that we dared to believe.  We shutter as the twilight broadened the shadows in our pretend beast that even quicksand couldn’t hold.  We are naked in the ancient forest changeling.  The world is the creator for our lust for enlightenment.  We’ll ash over like the campfire we’ve lit. Hidden, until THEYunearth their questions, their wonder, their unreasonable quest for the unknown.  Trees, moss, stone… alone…How’d we even get here, they ask scratching their heads, turning the pages.  The sun farted and we whirl pooled down the shitter into the vast leach field of planets, atmosphere, clouds, rain, oceans, and land, without any wipe. COMPUTE.


Just like it.  Don’t fight it. Tell us what you feel.

Here’s twilight. Then Night time. Nothing is ever real.

So… bring Sunshine or rain storm, then lightning.  No one really cares.

Here’s Midnight, Sun’s so bright, blinded by your fears.

One second. One river. The water gently falls.

On two now, the ocean calls and calls and calls.

Your high now, all lost now, remember is the game.

Too gone now, you’ve forgotten, you hardly know your name.

But she’s right there, you see her, she guides you all astray.

She taunts you, you deliver, as the night begins to day.

So… metamorphosis. A lone star shines, showers a steady rain.

A cold stone weeps, in the river, as the water begins to drain.

One rain drop. One ocean. Here inside your brain.

Now two fall. In the city, and no one hears the pain.

Just like it. Don’t fight it. Tell us what you feel.

Here’s Autumn. Then Winter. Earth has made the deal.

So… we start over, in the morning, then fall into our beds.

Earth repeats us, then we discover, what’s really in our head.